Fallen Angel, Rising Demon
by StarShinobi
Summary: Dumbledore has just been killed and Draco is brought before the Dark Lord. What is this boy's fate? Two part fic by request. Rated for torture, blood, and mild language. Dark fic. Repost for errors
1. It Begins

Ok, so I got really bored one night (and I saw Order of the Phoenix) and just wrote this little story in about an hour. I have an idea for another chapter or two, but I'll only do it if I get enough reviews. Otherwise, it will be left to the immagination. Besides, I really disliked the lack of Draco's story in book 7. This is a repost to make up for some gramatical mistakes.

WARNING: Torture, blood, angst, mild language, character death (not Draco, don't worry).

I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowlings does, obviously.

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"Loyalty is a fine quality, but in excess it fills political graveyards." 

-**Neil Kinnock**

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He was drug from the castle with astounding speed by the man he had once called his professor, and he probably would for as long as he would know him

He was drug from the castle with astounding speed by the man he had once called his professor, and he probably would for as long as he would know him. But, right now, he didn't know how long that would be. You see, he had failed. He was supposed to kill Dumbledore, and failed. Snape had to come and finish the job for him because he was too much of a coward.

He turned to see the castle moving farther and farther away. The place he had called his home, the place he had been trying to escape from for the past six years was now shrinking into the distance, and he was not so sure he wanted to leave anymore. 

Harry was trying to catch up with them, fury shown in his eyes as he cast spell after spell at the professor that was running from the castle, the man who had just killed one of the greatest wizards in the world and one of his closest friends. _Saint Potter_, thought Malfoy, _trying to save the damned. There's no use, I have been condemned to death._

He winced as his teacher gave his arm a strong pull, causing him to momentarily lose his balance. "Hurry up, you fool, there is no time to waste."

Other Death Eaters were joining them in their flight, but no other wizards other than that boy pursued them. They suddenly stopped and the world seemed to spin around him. There were no trees, no castle, no Potter, only a sickening spin that made him want to puke. He had always hated being a passenger in Apparating. It was much easier to just do it himself. But soon the spinning stopped and they were in a large, stone hallway with many wooden doors on each wall. Draco found that he was on the floor, still disoriented from the spell.

Crabbe Sr. knelt down by the blonde haired boy and put a hand on his shoulder. "Is he dead, lad?" Draco only nodded his head, afraid that if he opened his mouth he would be sick on one of the highest ranked Death Eaters there were. The man clapped Malfoy on the back, obviously believing that Draco had completed the act, though many in the room knew differently.

A door on the opposite side of the long hall and the silhouette of a tall, thin man began to walk toward them. The others stood at attention while Draco could only sit there and squint into the bright light in an attempt to discover who this man was. His arm was soon seized by a strong, harsh hand as he was drawn to his feet to stand at attention as well. Other Death Eaters entered the hall from other doors, all drawing their gaze to the tall, thin white-haired boy who stood in the center of the line.

To his surprise, the man who approached him from that bright light was not Voldemort as he had dreaded, but someone he was far more afraid of, his father Lucius Malfoy. Draco could only snicker at the thought that Dumbledore and his sheep still believed his father to be locked away in that God forsaken prison. His father was too powerful for that place. The dementors had freed him within days of his imprisonment, and no one had noticed. It made Draco proud of his father.

"My son," said Lucius, his velvet voice was welcoming and full of pride, "is Dumbledore dead?"

"Yes, father," said Draco, not sounding as proud as he believed he would have had he done the deed, but it was done nonetheless.

"Did you kill him?" The same pride glistening the edges of the sentence, his eyes shining with it.

Draco hesitated. He knew his father would be disappointed, but whether Draco told him or not, he would find out the truth. "No, sir."

The proud glisten that had shown through his father's eyes now faded with disappointment and anger. He backed away from his son, suddenly becoming very interested in the snake head that topped his cane. His lips pursed in frustration as he lay deep in thought. "I'm sorry, father. I…" but he was unable to finish. As he started to explain, his father's hand rose into the air and came crashing down on the pale boys face, throwing his head to the side and stunning him.

_Not again_, thought Draco. _It's been three years since he stopped hitting me._ He looked back up at his father with fear in his eyes. The soft glisten of pride was now completely replaced by a flame of anger and fury bent on escaping from the man to his son through his fists. "Father, I…"

"You disgrace the name Malfoy," Lucius interrupted, daggers in every word. "How dare you call yourself my son?!" He lifted his hand again, this time pulling down with enough force to knock the pale boy down onto the cold stone floor. Draco lifted his hand to where his father had hit him only to feel the hot, throbbing skin on his cheek. He looked toward his old professor, only to see him roll his eyes and look away. "Get up, you piece of garbage!"

Draco pulled himself to his feet and looked at his father, the man he used to love and admire, now stood caught in a glare of despise. "I'll teach you to look at me like that!" he yelled as he raised his cane above his head. Draco braced for another round…

"Lucius, what are you doing?" came a voice, soft and beckoning but still sick and sinister. There was no mistaking it. The Dark Lord was not having some lackey punish Draco like he had seen so many times before. He planned on taking care of it himself.

Lucius slowly lowered his wielded weapon and lightly placed its tip on the stone floor with a quiet rap. "I'm sorry, my lord. I forgot my place."

"Yes, you did," he said again as he finally arrived in front of the group of Death Eaters, "but I'll take care of that later. First thing is first." He turned his attention to the group, "Draco?"

"Yes, my lord," said Draco as he dropped to one knee, his right hand placed over his chest and his gaze to the floor. He was not showing it, but he was afraid. The only indication of this was the beads of sweat that were beginning to form on his brow, but they were masked by his medium length blonde hair.

"Is Dumbledore dead?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And were you the one who killed him?"

"N…No, my lord."

"Then who, pray tell, was it that killed him?" Voldemort had gotten very close to Draco's head as he said this, close enough that if Draco had chosen to look up, he would have only seen the slits of his snake-like eyes. Draco could feel his breath on his hair.

"That would be me, sire," said Snape, bowing in the same fashion as Draco. 

"Serverus, you have proven yourself very loyal, but it was the boy's job to kill him." The Dark Lord's voice gained more malice as the conversation continued.

"He showed an incapability of completing the task, so I did it in his stead. I think the most important thing is that Dumbledore is dead."

"Of course your right, Serverus, but I can not have a failure within my order. He will have to be punished."

"I agree completely, my lord, but, I believe there is no use to be killing him now. I believe that, should we play our cards right, someone may come looking for the boy. After all, he was not the one that killed the wizard." Malfoy couldn't believe what he was hearing. Serverus, his favorite teacher, was now offering him up as bait. How could he do that?

"Ah, Serverus," cooed the evil wizard, "you were always a schemer. We will draw in some of the Order using this boy. They always did hate to see the innocent suffer."

_Suffer, he can't mean…_

"Lucius, you may have your fun for now," said Voldemort. "I will give him his punishment later. Come, Serverus. We must make a plan."

"Coming, sire," said Serverus as he rose and followed the dark wizard to the lighted door.

"Oh, and Lucius..."

"Yes, master?"

"Try not to kill him." Lucius just smirked and nodded his head as his master closed the door behind him and his followers as they left. The other Death Eaters began to go their separate ways as well, disappearing into the many doorways that littered the walls. Two remained to make sure Draco wasn't killed.

"Now, my son," said Lucius with venom in his words, "time to teach you that a Malfoy NEVER FAILS!!" He lifted his cane and brought it down right on top of Draco's right arm with all of his might. A sickening crack and an agonized yell resonated through the hall as Lucius' first swing broke Draco's right collar bone. Draco dropped to his knees in pain as he held his arm in an attempt to lessen the pain and weight placed on his injured body part.

_I have to move, I can't just let him beat me like this. But if I do, it will only get worse!_

Before he could react, another swing came crashing down on his back, throwing him forward onto the cold floor. He did not cry out this time, as he knew it amused his father when he did, and he was not going to give him the satisfaction of breaking him down. Luckily nothing was broken with that swing and the boy began to push himself up when yet another attack racked his body as a foot came in contact with his stomach, forcing him to loose his breath with a 'hmph.'

His father circled him as he gasped and fought to regain his breath. "Draco, Draco," he said in a calm voice, "I gave you everything you wanted and taught you everything I know, and yet you couldn't kill a feeble old man." He raised his cane again and Draco braced himself for more pain, but the pain did not come.

"Lucius stop!" cried a woman's voice. Draco could hear her run between his father and him, but he was unable to see who it was. He recognized the voice, but was unable to think from the lack of oxygen. "Lucius, he's your son. Why are you doing this to him?"

"Shut up, wench!" and then Draco heard the crack of skin hitting skin. Memories flew into his mind that had been unreachable a minute ago, but his breath had returned and he could now think clearly.

"Mum."

Draco heard another crack as he raised himself to his feet, pain shooting through his wand arm and ribs. Before his father could get a third shot off at his mother, Draco ran between them and pushed his father back. Protectiveness shone in his eyes while the fires of rage burned on in his father's. "Don't you dare touch my mother! I did what I could to finish the task, but _I_ was unable to do it, not her. I don't want to be a Death Eater, but he threatened you and mum and that's why I did this." He was no longer afraid to face his father and his father seemed to be backing away. "I couldn't kill Dumbledore, that's true, but without me, they would have never gotten into the castle and Snape would have never been able to kill the old bat. Doesn't that count for anything?!"

Lucius looked at his son with pride once again in his eyes as he moved toward the boy. Narcissa still lay on the floor behind Draco. The white-haired man lifted his hand and placed it gently on his son's cheek. "My son…" he began.

Then Draco saw the fury return to his eyes as he lifted the cane and smacked it against his face. Narcissa let out a scream as the cane split in half from the force of the impact, sending Draco back to the floor. "…it will never be enough to only finish half!" He turned to the two Death Eaters who had remained in the hall and pointed to his wife. "Get her out of here!"

"No, my baby!" she yelled as Lucius drew his wand from the broken cane. 

Draco tried to pull himself back up off the floor, but his head was still spinning from the last hit. He could feel a warm liquid running steadily from his mouth, and could see a blurry pool of red below his face. His face felt like it was on fire and his eyes could not focus. He heard his father unsheathe his wand and braced for what he knew was to come.

"Crucio!" Draco felt his entire body go completely cold before erupting into a fire of pain. Every bone, every muscle, every nerve in his body was screaming. He forced himself not to scream, he convinced himself that his mother was doing enough of that for the both of them. He bit his tongue to hold in the scream only to feel his mouth filling with the warm liquid from before. He thrashed and rolled on the ground in an attempt to stop the pain. It was too great for him to handle for much longer, but also too strong to allow him to float into the darkness of unconsciousness. His collar bone popped and rubbed from the thrashing, causing even more pain. He could no longer take it and let out a scream of agony that echoed through the hall and pushed the blood from his mouth. After what seemed like hours, which was really only minutes, the pain started to subside and he was free to gasp for breath after spitting more blood from his mouth to the floor. He coughed and moaned as the pain slowly subsided.

He could hear his mother screaming for him through one of the doors, but from which direction it was coming he could not tell. He heard footsteps coming toward him and eventually, a foot rolled him over onto his back, his father stood over him with an evil grin. "There, now we know better, don't we?"

Draco mustered up all of the strength he had left and launched blood filled spit onto his father's face. Lucius yelled in frustration before connecting his foot with Draco's broken ribs, sending him into the welcoming darkness.

He didn't know how long he had been out when he finally awoke on the cold floor of a stone cell. It was unbelievably cold, racking his body with shivers as it tried to keep itself warm. Draco moaned with every new shiver as it irritated his broken ribs and collar bone, sending pain through his body. His mouth tasted awful from the blood and he was hungry and thirsty. The room was dark, not even a candle to help his find out where he was, but due to the cold, he decided he wouldn't be surprised if a dementor was not keeping guard outside his cell.

He attempted to find his wand which he had stashed in the waistband of his dress pants before he left the castle with his left hand. His right was completely useless thanks to his father's cane, but his wand must have been taken to ensure he couldn't escape, or worse.

He suddenly found that he was not the only one in the cell. A soft whimpering could be heard in the silence that had been previously hidden by Draco's pain. "Who's there?" he asked, trying not to sound afraid.

"Draco?"

"Mum? What are you doing here?"

"I…I don't know. The guards put me in here after your father did those terrible things to you." Her voice strained with tears. "Draco, I'm so sorry. This should have never happened to you."

"But it did," he said, but he did not sound angry, he sounded tired, "and now we just have to deal with what is to happen." There was a long pause between the two, his mother's soft whimpers still penetrating the darkness. Finally, Draco broke the unwanted tension. "What is he going to do to me, mother?"

"I don't know, baby," she said, finally moving to her son's side. She searched the floor until she got a hold of the boys hand and just held it in her own, caressing his fingers in a motherly manner. "Don't worry, Draco. We'll get through this together, ok?" She couldn't see it through the darkness, but she knew by the sounds that her boy nodded his head.

Just then, the cell door opened and a bright light shone through it, momentarily blinding the two Malfoys. "Come on," they heard a husky voice say as he wrapped a strong hand around Narcissa's arm, "the Dark Lord wants to see you both."

Draco watched as his mother's silhouette was pulled from the room and two more men came to his side. They lifted him up with no heed toward his injuries and he let out a small grunt of pain, apparently to the men's amusement. He was dragged into the bright hallway and down many different corridors. Eventually, he lost his sense of where he was and how to get out if he should escape the cell, and the Death Eaters that held him pushed open a large wooden door, entering the stone hall he had passed out in. 

All of the Death Eaters were present in their ceremonial robes, chanting some sort of ancient chant that sent chills down the young man's spine and made the hair on his neck stand on end. Voldemort stood directly in front of him, wearing dark red robes the color of newly spilt blood. Narcissa was kneeling at his feet and his father, wearing a similar colored robe and a skull mask the covered the left side of his face, was on his master's left side.

"Ah, young Draco," began Voldemort, "it's time to set the trap, but first, your punishment. You remember the details of your assignment, failure meant death to your family."

"Please, master," begged Draco as he hung in the Death Eaters' arms, the last word tasted like fire in his mouth, "I tried and the task was completed, it just wasn't by me. Please, leave my mother and father out of this."

Voldemort let out a small, sinister laugh. "I will not harm your father, for you see, he has disowned you and therefore, is not connected to this agreement." Draco was taken aback; his own father had disowned and abandoned him when he needed him the most. "All your mother has to do is follow suit and she will be free from punishment as well." Voldemort gave Draco and evil smile before turning his attention to the white haired woman. "Well?"

_Please, mother, just do it. I will not blame you. Save yourself!_

She looked back at her boy, his pleading eyes piercing through her, begging her to take the offer. She might have if his eyes were all she could see, but his body made her disgusted with the people she had associated herself with. His face was swollen where the cane had broken on his face and there was a sharp point threatening to break through the skin where his right collar bone had broken. His body was littered with small cuts and bruises from thrashing on the floor, and his white shirt was covered in dirt, his collar stained with his own blood. He looked even paler than normal from the loss of blood, and tired, so terribly tired. She made her decision.

"No," she said standing and looking straight into her master's eyes. "I will not abandon my son. You may see him as a coward for not killing that old git, but I am proud that my son will not sink to the level of murdering a defenseless man. Don't misunderstand me, I'm glad the old coot is dead, but I will not abandon my baby. I love my son and I would die for him!"

Another laugh escaped the wicked man. "Excellent, _Avada Kedavra!_"

"NO!" yelled Draco as he watched the green light strike his mother in the chest. She fell gracefully to the ground; the shine of her eyes disappeared and was replaced by glossless death. Draco found the strength to stand and tried to run to his mother, but was held back by the two Death Eaters by his wrists, his arms behind him.

He could feel his collarbone popping and scraping, but he didn't care, he needed to be by his mother. Voldemort walked up to him, smiling that evil laugh, and held Draco's chin in his hand. "Silly boy." The he looked up at the two guards holding him back and nodded.

Before Draco could react, he felt both of h is arms being twisted and a loud pop in each shoulder. They released him from their grips and allowed the yelling boy to fall to the floor in pain. His arms now useless due to his disconnected shoulders.

"Sorry if I am a little rusty at this," said Voldemort with another sickly amused laugh at the boy's pain, "it has been a while since I've punished someone myself." He used his wand to flip Draco onto his back and open the front of his long-sleeve, button up shirt. "_Sectumsempra_!"

Draco remembered this spell; Harry had used it on him! He felt the sensation of a cold, dull knife pushing into his pale flesh, but this one was different from the last time. When Harry used it, the cuts had been made simultaneously with a sharp object and were quick; this one made the cuts individually and did it agonizingly slow with a dull one. The cut started on his left cheek and slowly moved down his neck and chest. When it was just below his pectoral muscles, the cut turned diagonally across his abdomen, ending at the top of his hip. 

Draco fought back the yells of agony, the tears of pain as the madman continued the same routine on his right side, purposely making a cut between the severed bones of his clavicle. Once this happened he could take it any more. He screamed and a sick smile spread across the serpent-man's face. By the time the second cut was finished, blood had started to run slowly from every cut. He had not gone as deep as Harry had, but these wounds were intended for torture, not death.

Draco gasped for air, ignoring the pain emanating from his mangled ribs. He found the eyes of his old professor and both a look of fake satisfaction and true grief shone in his eyes. The others looked the same way, none of them had ever seen a man so young be tortured so badly. The Dark lord let out another sinister laugh before throwing the young man against one of the stone walls, the impact on his back causing him to have the wind knocked out of him.

"Oh, Draco," cooed Voldemort as he approached the gasping boy, "I had always thought that you had so much potential, but now look at you. You're lying on the floor, bloody and broken, and nothing more to me than bait." He backed up again and Draco readied for what he was to come. He just hoped it didn't hurt as much the second time. "_Crucio!_"

He was wrong. The pain did not lessen, only increase since his first time. As he thrashed on the ground, his broken bones rubbed and his cuts were pulled causing them to bleed more and increase in size. But, once again, he refused to cry out and give them the satisfaction of his pain. He held his breath and clenched his muscles in an attempt to control his wild thrashings, but only caused more pain to his broken body. He could hear his master laughing like a giddy school boy as Draco thrashed and took short breaths. "Come now, Draco, cry out for me."

No, he wouldn't do it, but the pain was so great he didn't know how much longer he could last. "Do it!" yelled Voldemort as he flicked his wand. The pain in Draco's body increased and he could not longer take it. He screamed in agony and all the Death Eaters, minus his father, flinched at the pained sound. Each of them saw their own son or daughter in this boy and had no idea how the demon beside their master could stand it.

After several minutes of the Cruciatus Curse, Voldemort ordered the Death Eaters to heal the cuts, but not all the way, and bring the boy back to his cell. He turned and began to walk back toward the door he had seen him go to the first time, Draco's father and Serverus at his heels when he stopped and turned back to the boy. "By the way, happy birthday, Draco." 

Let me know what you think. I figured it could be Draco's birthday since the HP timeline said he killed him in early June and his birthday is June 5. Yay for being a fangirl. 


	2. The End

Ok, here is the ending of my Draco Malfoy story. I know it has been a weird story, but I wanted to work on my ability to discribe something and make someone feel what they person is feeling. I hope that I have done that well. Please tell me if you enjoyed the story or not, I love to hear from my readers. I tried to keep all character personalities the same as the book and I think I did ok on that.

Special thanks to bigred20 and Zoekske. This chapter is for you two.

WARNING: Blood, torture, character death, angst, mild language, and betrayal.

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"Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent."

Luke 15: 4-7

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It had been two weeks since his first punishment, but Draco was still defiant. His shoulders had been disconnected and relocated at least once a day and it seemed Lord Voldemort's new favorite past time was punishing the pale faced boy. Draco wanted desperately to escape, but the punishment sessions he had gone through each day had drained him and he knew he wouldn't get past all the Death Eaters even if he found his way from the labyrinth of hallways. He was given water everyday and food every other by his aunt Bellatrix. She seemed the only one who cared for him now, and even she looked at him like a piece of filth. 

He could hear footsteps in the hall outside his heavy wooden cell door and gasps as young men and women walked by the dementors guarding his cell. No one had been told that Draco was in there, but all the teens knew better than to ask what the room held that was so important.

Draco knew what day this was, his father had been talking about it ever since he could remember, June 19, the day his class could be inducted to being Death Eaters. He would have been with them if not for his father's stupid plan to get Potter's prophesy, but now, he was glad he wasn't. Never again would he dream of being a Death Eater. Right now, his dream was to get out of this damn rat hole alive.

The group had finally passed by and Draco was left alone once again, leaning against the cool cell wall, to be with his thoughts. He was always able to see his breath now; the dementors had stood by that door for so long Draco was surprised that it hadn't frozen shut. He smiled at the thought of being locked in this cell, hearing the Dark Lord curse as his favorite toy was lost forever. Nothing pleased him as much as hearing his old master and father become frustrated or angry and there was nothing to do about it, especially after Harry found another horcrux and destroyed it. Now Voldemort is down to four, only three more to find.

He often found himself wondering what his classmates were doing, especially Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy. He figured those three were at initiation, along with Blaise, the other Slytherins and others looking to join the cause, looking forward and yet dreading the induction ceremony. The ceremony is never the same as the year before. Sometimes you had to kill something or someone, sometimes you just needed to cast one of the Unforgivable Curses, sometimes you just needed to bow in front of Voldemort. It really just depended on the man's mood and lately, because of Draco, he had been in a great mood. After all, he was able to release his frustration whenever he felt like it.

Draco felt the temperature slightly increase in the room, indicating that the dementors had left their post. "_Alahamora!_" said someone on the other side of the door, causing the lock to click. There were strained grunts as two men struggled until they had finally opened the heavy, frozen door, pushing ice into a pile as it scraped the floor. Warm air passed over Draco's skin and a sigh escaped his lips. "We're moving you to another cell," said one of the men. "This door is getting too hard to open."

The two men cautiously approached Draco. He was drained and beaten, but the young man still attempted to fight guards before they were able to subdue him. Now they normally sent in three guards instead of two, but this time was different. The guards apparently didn't feel like playing today. "_Stupify!_" A red light hit Draco, but he did not move due to the fact that he was already leaning against the wall, but his head was thrown into the wall fairly hard. While he was stunned, the two men ran to him, threw him face down on the stone floor and placed a velvet bag over his head. A draw string was pulled so he was unable to see through the bottom or shake it off.

Soon, they were traveling down corridor after corridor, Draco feeling like he had traveled this path before. He heard the men push open a large door, and a voice caused him to cringe. He couldn't believe how stupid he was for believing that they were bringing him to a new cell, they had brought him to the induction ceremony where Voldemort was speaking to the potential and current Death Eaters.

"You have shown your loyalty by coming here today and wishing to become a soldier in the greatest and most powerful army the world has ever seen!" There was a great uproar of voices and the hall echoed them back. "But now is your test, my followers. As others have done before you, you too must show me your capabilities of following my orders." Draco felt the two me lift him up and place him in a kneeling position in front of the Dark Lord, facing away from him. He couldn't believe he was the object to be used in the ceremony. "You will be given tasks and you will need to fulfill them, be them against friend or foe. Your test is to place this person in front of you in the Cruciatus Curse until I tell you to stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord," he heard the crowd respond. 

"Now, form a line and I will show you your target. You must be able to attack a person while seeing the pain on their face." 

Draco could feel the drawstrings being pulled away from his neck and the velvet hood being removed from his head. Everyone gasped as his face was shown, looking from a beaten Draco to a smiling Lucius. Each person wore a ceremonial metal mask except the twenty new recruits that stood before him. Ten of them were from his class; the others were adults just looking for a piece of power. Draco's eyes met those of his friends and a piece of his heart broke away.

His friends looked at him with fear. Their best friend, the Slytherin Prince, was the subject for their induction. No one had spoken of Draco after his disappearance, but they had all assumed that their master had hidden the boy from the Ministry. Apparently this was not so.

Pansy couldn't take her eyes off of the man she had loved. He was still the man she knew, but the way he held himself was different. No longer was it a cocky, proud stance, but that of a brave soul, defying all that lay around him. He was no longer a boy following a plan, but a man that was doing something for himself, and though she admired him for it, she also hated that he put himself through this.

His appearance frightened her. His dress pants were torn and dirty; far those of the prim and proper ones he always insisted on wearing. His once crisp white shirt was now covered in dirt and blood. It was unbuttoned exposing not only his muscular body, but an x-shaped scar that cut across his chest and stomach. His face had a long, deep bruise and he was covered in both dry and new blood. He was much thinner than he had been the last time she saw him, evidently they had been starving him, and his face was much paler, but it was hard to see through all the filth. His collar bone was jagged on the right side, and his lips were split in several areas. His eyes burned with both hatred and determination; he held no pity for himself. There were cuts, scars, and bruises in too vast of quantities to count, but they had evidently spared his face of scars, for one could tell that was healed regularly.

Voldemort saw the sadness in the young woman's face when Draco was revealed, "Ms. Parkinson, why don't you go first." 

Her heart sunk in her chest as she approached the man in front of her. She raised her wand and pointed it at Draco. She swallowed hard. "Pansy, you don't have to do this," said Draco, causing the girl to hesitate. "You can still turn back, trust me, you don't want to do this. You're meant to do so much, don't ruin your life and take this side. I did, and look where I am. Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, none of you need to do this!"

That's when Draco saw his chance. While she thought, Draco lunged forward and grabbed her wand. Turning to Voldemort, Draco lifted the wand. _Let's see how you like it!_ he thought. "_Crucio!_"

Draco felt the same pain run through his body as he dropped to the floor in agony. After a minute, Voldemort gave Lucius the signal to stop and Draco could breathe again. He still would not scream for this man. Lucius walked up to his gasping son and cast another spell on him. "_Petrificus Armos!_ (made it up, but armos is Latin for arms)." Draco felt his arms being drawn behind his and bound with an invisible rope. His only chance to escape had failed. _I __**am**__ a failure,_ he thought.

"Ms. Parkinson, I am giving you one last chance," said Voldemort. Pansy knelt down and picked up her wand where Draco had dropped it. She lifted her wand and pointed it at Draco who was still gasping for air on the hall floor, arms bound behind him.

This was it. This was when Pansy had to make her decision. Draco looked at the woman he had fallen for; tears in her eyes as she stared at him down the length of her wand. He never thought he would actually love her, but somewhere during the school year he began to like the idea of settling down with Pansy and starting a family. He used to imagine them going on raids together and teaching their children magic, but no more. This was her choice. It was either him or the Death Eaters, and in a flash of pain, Draco's life fell apart around him.

He lay limp on his side in his new cell hours later, still coughing from the ache in his chest. Every single one of the twenty men and women put him through the curse, and after Pansy had completed it, his three remaining friends didn't even hesitate. Blaise even seemed to enjoy himself. Draco had thought that he had escaped the torture after Goyle knocked him unconscious, but with the word 'Ennervate' from his father, Draco was brought back to the painful world for another go. Draco had lasted through the first five minutes without sound, but once the second recruit had cursed for three minutes, his resolve no longer held. His old friends were forced to curse him for five minutes; all others only had to do it for one. Of all of his body, there was one place that hurt the most; one place he didn't believe could every hurt him, a Malfoy: his heart. 

In one evening, all that remained in his life, his friends, had abandoned him, and for the first time in fourteen years, Draco cried. Not to get out of something or get someone in trouble, but truly cried. He cried for the betrayal of his father, the loss of his mother and friends, but most of all, he cried for himself, because he knew no one else would. When Voldemort believed he no longer served a purpose, he was going to die, and no one was going to care. He had never felt so alone in his entire life.

The Dark Lord decided to skip that night's session and Draco was allowed to sleep with as little pain as possible. He lay on the floor where his chauffeurs had left him, the room filled with silence except for the raspy sound of his breathing. He watched as the fog rose from his mouth again, the dementors had been stationed in front of his new cell. He decided he couldn't complain so much though; at least this cell had a window, even if it was too high for him to reach it. 

He thought about what he was going to do if he ever got out of this prison. He couldn't go to anyone he knew, they would just send him back to this place and an early grave. He couldn't go to the Ministry or Hogwarts, he would get sent to Azkaban. The only thing he could do would be to live in the muggle world and be on the run. "Oh well, anything's better than here," he said to himself.

He closed his eyes and tried to force himself to sleep for the third time that night when he heard a loud crash come from out side. He wanted so desperately to reach up to the window and look to see what it was, but he was no even able to move his hand to try and push himself up. He suddenly heard curses, hexes, and jinxes being cast and crashing against walls or people. _They must still be testing the new recruits, making sure they can handle pressure. _

"_Alahamora!"_

The door opened and Draco had to close his eyes from the light that flooded the room. He felt a soft hand with long nails touch his cheek. "Aunt Bellatrix?"

"Voldemort said not to let them have you," she whispered in his ear before standing erect again, "So I am supposed to finish you off, nice…and…slow." Fear engulfed Draco as his tired brain grasped the meaning of her words. "_Crucio!_" Her voice was husky and the words spilled from her mouth like venom.

She flicked her wand sending Draco into a pained thrash. She flicked it again, increasing the pain that racked Draco's body. A minute later she gave her want an intense wave and Draco felt the wounds on his chest and arms break open, blood spilling on the floor. His throat had begun to close off and his shoulders disconnected due to his muscle's spasms, and the world around him started to change to hues of reds and blacks. He screamed in pain, he knew this was the end.

The pain stopped and the evil laughs of Bellatrix ceased. White light filled his eyes as he stared upon some sort of holy creature. "No," said Draco weakly, "go away. Leave me alone. I don't deserve to with you." The light faded and a silhouette of a boy no older than he stood over him before he fell into a dark abyss.

"Draco," said a voice softly. "Draco, wake up."

_No, I'm not ready to wake up._

"Hey, Draco." Draco forced his eyes open to a green eyed boy with glasses and brown hair. The boy smiled when Draco's grey eyes met his and Draco noticed happiness fill them. "Good, you're awake."

"Where am I?" asked Draco weakly, his voice was amazingly horse.

"Shh, you need your strength," said the boy starting to leave. "You've been out for four days." He exited the room with a smile.

"Four days," he said softly, and then he realized something. "I'm out. I'm out," he said, more tears coming to his eyes, but he pushed them back as he heard footsteps coming to the door.

Harry returned with Hermione and they each took a side of Draco's bed. "How are you feeling Draco?" she asked.

"Why do you care," he said coldly. His entire body hurt and his head felt like it was going to explode, but he wasn't going to tell _them_ that.

"Don't worry, Draco," said Harry, "Mrs. Weasley is on her way over. She's a wiz at healing charms."

"Fabulous, I've been degraded to being healed by a Weasley."

His comment was met by angry eyes, but there was still a large amount of kindness there. "What they bloody hell is he doing here?" came a voice, Ron leaning against the doorframe.

"There's no where else for him to go, Ronald," said Hermione. 

"I say send the bloody git back to his good for nothing master," said Ron.

"And I say they send you back under the rock you crawled from, but that isn't happening either," said Draco, only to receive another shush from Harry.

"It doesn't matter," said Harry. "All that matters is an innocent person didn't die."

"Hmph," snorted Ron, "innocent my ass."

"Did anyone get hurt trying to save me?" asked Draco to everyone's surprise. "Any Death Eaters?" 

"No one died thankfully," said Hermione, "but there were some injuries. Lupin broke his arm and Tonks hurt her leg, but it's nothing a simple spell can't fix." She smiled at the pale teen who only stared at her in return.

"What about my father?"

"Ran away like the coward he is," said Ron. He was astounded that this didn't provoke anger from Malfoy. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Ron broke it. "Who did that to you mate?" pointing to Draco's bandages. Blood had soaked through them in an x-shaped pattern. "You-Know-Who?"

"Yeah," he said and then added with a mixture of hurt and hatred, "and my father."

This was met by another long pause and they were all thankful when someone came into the room.

"Ronald, Harry, Hermione, it's time for dinner. Let the poor child rest" said Mrs. Weasley as she entered. She smiled at Draco, a genuine smile. "I'll be right back, dear. I just need to get some supplies." She left the room as did Ron and Harry, Hermione was close behind.

"Whose idea was it to come and save me?" asked Draco. Hermione stopped and noticed the boy had pushed himself into a sitting position and was staring at his scarred stomach. "It's not like I'm worth it."

She smiled to herself. She had thought the same thing when it was suggested, but now that she saw the pain Draco had to go through, she believed it was a very noble one. "Believe it or not, it was Harry. The Order fought him on it, but he explained the whole story about your family and being forced into it. He even bullied them with the fact that you didn't actually kill Dumbledore. He was the one who actually scared away the dementors with his Patronus Charm and carried you out of the cell. I'm ashamed to say that I was one who fought with him about it."

"I don't blame you," said Draco, shocking the ginger haired girl. "If I were you, I wouldn't have wanted to save me either. I still don't understand why any of you bothered? Why would anyone want to save a demon from hell?"

"Because it is demons that need saving the most," she said placing a hand on his shoulder. It felt odd consoling the Slytherin Prince. "Besides, you're more like a lost angel. You haven't been condemned yet, there's still time to make up for your mistakes, just as everyone else does." Draco looked at Hermione. Her eyes shown with true care for the boy, this whole rescue had placed the pale boy in a new light to her, but it would still take time for them to be friends. 

"Hermione!" yelled Ron from the kitchen.

"Coming!" she yelled back. She smiled at Draco again and started to go through the door.

But she was stopped again. "Thank you for saving me," he said. He smiled and in a kind tone added, "I still thing you're a filthy Mudblood."

She looked back and in the same manner said, "And you're still a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach. Now get some rest." She closed the door behind her when she left.

Draco laid his head back down on his pillow. His mother was dead, his father had disowned him, and his friends had abandoned him, but here, in this place filled with the laughter from the kitchen, he didn't feel so alone anymore. He knew it would take a long time to gain these people's trust and for him to accept any sort of friendship from them, but he was willing to try. They were willing to risk the sacrifice lives for him, he could sacrifice his old life for them. He was no longer a demon, but a fallen angel working his way back to heaven.

Well, how did I do. I didn't want Draco and Hermione to get along, but I also wanted there to be an understanding between the two. I hope this story was to your liking, I love Draco so I wanted him to be a hero in the end. I know this kind of throws off the real story, but I did want something like this to happen. 

-StarShinobi

P.S. Does anyone want me to continue something like this?


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